What Always Means
by springdandelights
Summary: I feel relief course through me as I take her in. She's guardedly greeting the peacekeepers, removing her hood, letting the fresh snow fall from her dark hair as she shakes it loose. Still here. Of course, she didn't go. The night after Katniss has to jump the fence through Peeta's eyes.


After finishing my last bowl, I get up and slide the wooden chair into its place beneath the table, nodding lightly at Mrs. Everdeen. "Lovely stew, thank you," I say to her.

She smiles at me and goes to a cabinet, pulling out a jar of dried herbs and another labeled _sleep syrup_. While she brews tea, I collect the dishes on the table and place them in the sink. I let the warm water rinse out the bowls and start to scrub.

"Oh, leave those, Peeta," Mrs. Everdeen says behind me. "I'll do them."

"It's just a few. It's my pleasure, really."

She nods her thanks at me and I swiftly wash the rest of the dishes, placing them carefully on the drying rack on the counter. Haymitch brings his up once he's done and dries the last of the silverware while I rinse out the sink. I hear Prim and Katniss talking quietly in the living room.

I guess it's time to head on out. Part of me wishes Haymitch and I could stay here, since I'm not convinced that Katniss has gotten off without any kind of punishment for going into the woods. We all know that's where she was. The male peacekeeper didn't seem to doubt her cover-up, but the woman left looking suspicious. Now, all the peacekeepers might need is for someone who just happened to see her going under the fence to inform on her. Without hesitation, she could be shot. Or worse. The thought prompts me to turn around and ask Mrs. Everdeen for permission to stay, but she's gone to the living room to give Katniss her tea.

When I get there, I can see the potent lulling effects of the sleep syrup are almost instantaneous. Katniss is nodding off, still sitting upright on the couch, her injured leg raised up in the hassock. It's bedtime.

"I'll help you to your room," I offer. She takes my outstretched hand and I help her up, but after a few steps I realize how pointless this is. She's practically passing out on me. I lean down and hook an arm under her legs, carefully, to carry her the rest of the way. I'm hyperaware of the hand that's lightly resting on the back of my neck. It's always good to hold her close to me. And she smells good. It's not like her to wear perfume, she couldn't possibly care less about her scent as long as she feels relatively clean, but there's always been something subtly sweet about her. I could never really put my finger on it. But right now, I think I can place the fragrance of pine.

I banish these thoughts as soon as I realize they're there. I repeat to myself what I have been since Gale's whipping when these things find their way into my mind. Katniss and I are friends. And friends don't just go pondering about stuff like this. And she loves him. And now we're in her bedroom, so I lay her gently on her mattress and slide the covers up around her, tucking her in. I whisper goodnight and turn to leave when I realize her hand has caught mine to keep me from going any further. I meet her eyes, see a hint of confliction there, followed by a soft-spoken request for me to stay until she falls asleep. I try to ignore the way this makes my heart throb a little. _She's just afraid to be alone, after what happened with the peacekeepers_ , I tell myself. I sit and hold her chilly hand in mine.

"Almost thought you'd changed your mind today," I admit. "When you were late for dinner."

"No, I'd have told you."

It's clear now. Of course, she didn't go. She would never have left without Prim and her mother, and especially not without notice. The hours of waiting for her to come home had driven me to panic a little, though, and my mind had begun to go to extremes. It wasn't just that it would have been very dangerous for her, but the painful idea of never seeing her again had hit me like a brick wall.

Slowly, now half-conscious, she brings one of my hands up to her face and rests it on her cheek, a gesture so minimal and yet so mesmerizing. This girl, so small and feeble under the power of sleep syrup, somehow has her little hands wrapped around my heart like a vice. One that I can't seem to break.

Because these are the things that make it so hard to let her go. Yes, she loves Gale, but it still plagues me. What she said about not everything being an act in the Games. And she let me hold her all those nights on the train, and in her sleep, would draw even closer to me than she already was. And sometimes I still meet her eyes and see something there. She rarely allows people to know what's in her heart through words. She puts up a steel front to protect the vulnerable girl inside of her. But she can't quite keep the things that she feels from reaching her eyes, her expression. This is why she's such a bad liar. Why I don't really believe that she doesn't have feelings for me. And there's this, now. My hand is pressed against her soft cheek because she has placed it there. These things will tantalize me to my grave. Yes, it's hopeless that I could ever move on. I've become my father, forever enthralled by a woman far out of his reach. And somehow, I don't want anything else.

So, when she whispers again, almost incoherently, for me to stay with her, I tell her all of this in one word. That as painful as it is, I'll never go anywhere. I can't. I will stay with her until I die. It's all that I want, and it's for always.

 **A/N** : I know not a lot of people write or read Hunger Games fanfic these days, but I recently got into the books again. Mockingjay has left me too emotionally raw and I can't just meander my way back into the real world without some kind of closure. Writing about these two helps to mend my aching heart. :') Feel free to PM me if you're in the same boat lolol. Thanks for reading.


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